Accepting Limits 'Cause Someone Says They're So
by Kyra Adelaide
Summary: Thing's are finally going good for Kurt. But when bullying leaves him questioning everything he knows about himself, he turns to the girl who always had his back, which lands the two friends in a very unfortunate situation. Kurtcedes friendship.
1. I'm Through Accepting Limits

** Hi!!! This is both my first Glee story and my first time writing on FanFiction. This is an idea that's been bouncing around in my head for a while now, and I finally got around to writing it. Besides, there aren't nearly enough Mercedes stories on here. So here's the first chapter of **_**Accepting Limits 'Cause Someone Says They're So**_**, which I have cleverly decided to call **_**I'm Through Accepting Limits**_**. Chapter names will get more creative, I promise. **

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I'm Through Accepting Limits

"Think you can handle it Artie?"

"Yes Mr. Schue, I love this song! It's got a great guitar solo too!" The boy's smile was infectious. For once, nobody was upset that they didn't get the lead. Artie deserved this song, it was his idea. For the most part, I think people were just glad that Finn didn't get it again. Don't get me wrong, the boy has a voice like a dream, but Mr. Schue seems to think he's the only guy who can sing in here.

Mr. Schue started to hand out the sheet music "We'll start choreographing tomorrow," I smiled at him as he handed me my copy of _Revolution_. It was about time we did a Beatles song. "I just want you guys to focus on learning the words for now." I read through the notes and notice that it will be one of our more challenging songs, at least for me. Some of the harmonized notes wavered just below the bottom of my register. I sigh, knowing that Mr. Schue still thinks of me as an alto. I guess you don't come across a teenage countertenor very often. I begin to hum the first few bars when I hear the oh-so-familiar sigh that Mercedes always accompanies with an eye roll. I look up and notice Mr. Schue rustling through his papers in front of Rachel.

"Artie has the lead for the most part, but I want you to take over on the second verse. All right?" Rachel smiled one of those smiles that made me want to shove a sock in her mouth.

"No, not all right!" I look around before realizing that I actually said that out loud. Everyone, including Finn, is staring at me like I just shot someone or something. I notice a slight look of pride in Mercedes eyes, and that gives me enough confidence to stand up and walk across the room to face Mr. Schue.

"Excuse me Kurt?" Mr. Schue seems just as surprised by my outburst as everyone else.

"You always give the lead to Rachel," I say, the sudden anger still very present. It's that same anger that makes me rip the sheet music from his hands."This is mezzo soprano. Don't pretend that only Rachel can handle it."

"It's still very high," Rachel said in her obnoxiously perky voice, "You're an exceptionally talented alto, Kurt, but-"

"I'm a countertenor," I cut her off. My voice didn't sound hysteric anymore, and that was enough to shut her up, "Tina is an alto. Brittany and Santana are altos. Matt's a bass and Puck's a tenor. Artie, Mike, and Finn? They're baritones. Quinn and Mercedes are mezzo sopranos, you're a soprano, and I'm a countertenor!" I spin to face Mr. Shuester. Despite he fact that he's a good 5 inches taller than me, I manage to make eye contact. I realized that my voice had been building throughout my nonsensical rant, and the room is uncomfortably quiet now that I'm done.

After a few moments of shocked silence, Finn asks the question that is no doubt on the mind of half the glee club, "What's a countertenor?"

"A countertenor," I say without breaking my death stare with Mr. Shuester, "is a male _soprano_," I say it slowly so that even Brittany will understand what I'm saying. "Not an alto. Soprano. And even if I couldn't _hold_ that damn F in Defying Gravity, you all heard me hit the F# right before that. The highest note in this song is an E. A note well within the range of any mezzo soprano or_ countertenor._" I emphasize the word again. Then I turn around briskly and retake my seat beside Mercedes. Everyone just stares at me, and just when it's starting to get really uncomfortable, Mr. Shuester stutters out, "I-I'll rethink the solo." Everyone laughs lightly, and things almost go back to normal. Rachel doesn't stop sending me angry, albeit surprised, looks throughout the rest of practice.

When we're all leaving, I get several thumbs up and pats on the shoulder.

"Good job Kurt," Artie smiles up at me, "you made morning practice almost worth coming to." This got a laugh from everyone. Except Rachel, of course.

I feel a strong hand come down on my shoulder, and instinctively flinch when I realize it's Puck. "Relax Hummel," he laughs, "I just wanted to tell you that that was probably the manliest thing you've ever done. Good on ya."

I smile and grab my messenger bag.

"Damn boy, you got game." I familiar voice says from behind me.

"Thanks Mercedes. It had to be said,"

"Ain't that the truth?" She links her arm through mine and we walk out of the now deserted choir room together. It's times like these I'm glad she's my best friend.

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**So that's it, the first chapter. I hop you all liked. Thanks so much for reading, and please review. I have at least one chapter in storage right now, and reviews are what inspire me to update. Just a few things I feel I should mention. This story will entirely be in Kurt's POV. The storyline will officially start next chapter, this was more of an atmosphere chapter. As for the vocal rant, I thought it would probably be something Kurt might think. I had to guess with Mike and Matt because I've never heard them sing, but I'm assuming. If you want to know what those terms mean, you can check it out here: http:// www. music. vt. edu/musicdictionary/ (just get rid of the spaces)**

**Search Countertenor, and then click on More about the voice. You get a really convenient chart! (Chris can reach notes above the Countertenor range, but is still officially considered a countertenor)**

**Thanks for reading!**

****Kyra Adelaide****


	2. Who Told You You're Allowed to Rain

**So here's the next chapter, and I got it done in record time (for me, anyways). I really hope you guys like this, it's a longer one, but I worked really hard and I quite enjoy it.**

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Who Told You You're Allowed To Rain On My Parade?

If I were to say that standing up to Rachel and Mr. Schuester at glee practice yesterday changed my life, I would be lying. But for some reason, I was having one of the greatest days I had had in a long time. I slept in because, for the first day this week, Mr. Schue hadn't scheduled a morning practice. I found a great pair of designer jeans that I had forgotten about in the back of my closet, and my hair was cooperating quite nicely.

I treated myself to a vegetarian omelette for breakfast, which was probably the most delicious thing I'd eaten since Puck's cupcakes. It was raining lightly, not enough to bother me, but heavy enough so my dad said he'd drive me, and I got to wear my Dolce and Gabbana raincoat. Dad let me choose the music we listened to on the ride, and he didn't even complain when I decided on the Rent soundtrack.

I got to school with ten minutes until the bell, which gave me plenty of time to complain about Mercedes outfit (she was wearing her Technicolor zebra sweater. Didn't I burn that thing?)

We had a substitute in math, and we watched a movie in science. It was about cane toads or something, and ten minutes in, Artie and I decided that weren't going to learn anything from it, so we spent the rest of class practicing _Revolution_. Despite a few angry glances from the teacher (who never actually did anything about it), nobody noticed. Artie had originally complained about the wheelchair desk being at the back of the classroom, but I had persuaded him to see the benefits. This was definitely one of those benefits.

There had been a fire or something in the cafeteria yesterday, so the lunch ladies ordered fresh pizza. I took two pieces (today was already wonderful, why not splurge?) and took my usual seat with Mercedes, Tina, and Artie. We were telling the girls about our impromptu jam session in science when Puck came to our table.

"Party. My house. Tomorrow. You in?" he asked.

"Us?" Tina asked, clearly bewildered.

"Yeah, you. All the glee kids," he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Why?" Mercedes asked, not quite trusting Puck. She always knows when something's up, which I one of the things I like so much about her. She doesn't take anybody's crap.

"To celebrate our Sectionals win!" he said.

I cocked an eyebrow, "And?"

His voice dropped to a whisper, "_And_ my mom's going to be out of town. Besides, Sarah got a new karaoke machine, which I'm not allowed to use. But she's sleeping at a friend's house, and I've been dying to try it"

"Karaoke party!" Artie said loudly, causing the people at the tables around us to turn.

"Shh!" said Puck, "Unless you want the half the hockey team to show up."

We all shook our heads vigorously, and Artie mimed zipping his mouth shut. Puck walked back to is usual Neanderthal friends. I went back to my pizza as Mercedes berated Tina for using far too much black eye shadow. Tina decided she liked it, and Artie agreed that it made her look different from everyone else, so the girls decided to wash some of it off before glee practice. Everyone was happy with this compromise, and we all went together to get dessert. I love chocolate chip cookie day.

***

"Hey Kurt?"

"Uh, h-hey Finn," he surprised me, so I let my usual cool slipped. I composed myself, "what's up?"

"I just wanted to say that that was really cool," he ran his fingers through his hair, "what you said yesterday."

"Thanks," I was blushing, despite my best efforts. I didn't want the conversation to end, so I said the first thing that came to mind, "So, are you going to Puck's party tomorrow?" Finn looked down, and I instantly realized what I had said.

"I, uh, I don't think I was invited..." he said, trailing off.

"Of course you are," I said, "it's a Sectionals victory party." I looked to Puck, and he looked up in acknowledgement.

"I, uh, I'll think about it," he said. I nodded and went to take my seat. Mercedes wasn't here yet, so I was just preparing to save her chair when-

"Can I sit here?"

"Sure Finn," I said, too overwhelmed to think things through. M's gonna kill me.

"Thanks," he said, "you're cool Kurt.

"Sorry I'm late Mr- oh, he's not here yet. That's good, he'd kill me if I was late," her eyes found me, widened briefly, and then she smiled knowingly, "again." The only available seat was beside Rachel, who still looked rather pissed, so Mercedes grabbed the chair from beside her and put it beside me.

"That was mean," I whispered.

"Yeah, well you're the one who gave my chair to white boy," she whispered back, "Besides; do you wanna be beside her when Mr. Schue gives you the solo?"

We were still laughing when Mr. Schue finally decided to show.

"Sorry guys, I was helping a freshman with irregular verbs," he was slightly out of breath, "who learned the lyrics?" Me, Artie, Tina, Mercedes, and, surprisingly, Brittany, raised our hands. "Good. So, I rethought the solo, and Kurt's right. This song is mezzo soprano, and it was... unfair of me to immediately give it to Rachel," Mercedes scoffed, "_So_, I've decided to give it to Quinn."

The room went silent.

"Congratulations!" Everyone turned to stare at me. Again. This is getting old. I kept going anyway, "We never got to hear your duet, and I always thought you guys would sound great together. Right Artie?" I hoped Artie would help break the silence. I knew he'd been looking forward to singing with Quinn, and this was his chance.

"Uh, yeah, right. We do sound pretty good together," Artie was still pretty shocked.

"We did work on some stuff when we did ballads," Quinn added.

"Good," said Mr. Schue, "now let's work on some choreography. I really think you guys'll like what I've got."

Practice was fun, and we caught on to the steps pretty quickly. We added the words in the third time we did it. Quinn fumbled a few times over the sheet music, but she hit that high E each and every time. Beautifully, I might add. The look on Rachel's face was priceless.

The seventh time Mr. Schue said, "from the top," we all groaned in unison.

"We go this, Mr. Schue," said Finn, "can't we just, you know, chill?"

Mr. Schue looked at us and realized we were all pretty much thinking the same thing. "Okay, there are only ten minutes left anyway. Let's have some fun!"

We all cheered, and spent the rest of class singing and having a good time. Puck formally invited the whole glee club (even Mr. Schue, who had to say "no, though it does sound fun." Puck whispered something about more booze for him.) to his party. Mercedes sang Hate on Me and we all got pretty into it. Brittany and Santana performed their ballad for us. It was a pretty good rendition of _Girls Just Wanna Have Fun_. Artie said that they "smacked Cyndi Lauper down like the hand of God". Tina wanted to know how Artie knew who Cyndi Lauper was. Rachel said it wasn't a ballad, but Mr. Schue said, and I quote, "ballads don't have to be boring, Rachel."

It was half an hour after practice ended when we realized it was time to go. Everyone left, almost reluctantly.

"Come on Kurt!" Mercedes called.

"I'll be right there M. I just gotta find my bag."

"I'll be waiting in my car," she winked, "I'm driving white boy too." With that, she left the room.

Once everyone had left, I walked up to Mr. Schuester.

He sighed, "I thought I'd be hearing from you. You know, it was very big of you to congratulate Quinn."

"It was no problem, she has a great voice," I paused, "She deserves it."

"But?" he asked.

"But why don't I?" I blurted out.

He sighed, again, "Kurt-"

"Mr. Schue," I noticed the exasperated look on his face, "this is the last time I'll interrupt you, I promise," he nodded, "I just need to know... you didn't give the solo the Quinn because you thought I couldn't handle it, right? You know I can do it?" I sounded like I was begging, but I wasn't sure what for. His acceptance, maybe?

"Kurt, you have a great voice, and I'm sorry I don't showcase it often," _ever_, I thought, "but I couldn't give you the part just because you were whining. You understand that, don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess," _even if it's not fair_, "I mean, if you gave me a part because I threw a tantrum, we'd never hear the end of Rachel."

He laughed, and picked up his sheet music before leaving. I grabbed my bag from my chair and headed out the door

* * *

**This next part may offend some people, just a fair warning.**

* * *

I knew Mercedes and Finn were problem sitting in an awkward silence while they waited for me, so I decided to take a shortcut through the gym hallway. Normally, I would have avoided this hallway at all costs, but school had ended almost three hours ago. Even what was left of the janitorial staff had gone home. Ms. Pillsbury was still running SAT prep, but I doubted any jocks would give a shit. I was about to make the last turn before the door when a huge shadow appeared behind me.

"Well, if it isn't McKinley's resident flamer."

"Karofsky," I turned around slowly, "why am I surprised that you can't read a clock?"

"Real funny faggot," he slowly backed me against the lockers, "let's see how long you keep laughing."

In one swift movement, I felt my entire upper body, arms and all, pinned against the lockers with one arm. I opened my mouth to scream when he placed his free hand over it.

"Don't waste your breath fruitcake, there's nobody to hear you. I just watched Schuester drive away," he removed his hand

"Ms. Pillsbury..." I said in as loud a voice I could muster with his arm crushing my chest.

"Has gone home for the day," he finished for me, "Figgins cancelled SAT prep when she resigned. Since she decided to stay, prep resumes next week."

I knew he was right, how could I have forgotten? She told us about it when she sat in on glee last week.

"Just-just get it over with," I closed my eyes and braced for his fist, "Mercedes'll kill me if I make her wait to long."

There was the longest silence. Then, Karofsky began to laugh, the kind of hysteric laughter that let me know how much trouble I was in.

"Relax faerie, I ain't gonna hit you," he stopped laughing, "I actually wanted to congratulate you," he pushed harder against my chest, causing me to breathe through my mouth, "I heard about what you said to Berry the other day. Pretty damn manly for a fag."

I stared at him, not really knowing what to say. The sound of my laboured breathing filled the hallway.

"You know, I've never had a problem with you. 'Just leave him alone', I thought, he ain't done nothing. But then, you go and do that, and it really got me thinking," he wasn't even looking at me anymore, just rambling to himself, "You know, I never seen you kiss anyone, or do anything like that. I asked around, no one has. I mean, you slapped Hudson's ass during that pep assembly, but that was probably part of that homo club dance routine, and you're always with that fat black chick. That's when I realized," his eyes snapped up to meet mine, and there was such anger in them, it froze me where I was, too afraid to breathe.

"You're a fake, Hummel," the use of my name turned my blood to ice. "If there's one thing I hate more than the damn football team, it's a fake. Are you a fake, Hummel?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but the air being squeezed from lungs and my still paralyzed vocal chords wouldn't let me.

"I'm gonna make it real easy for you," he spoke through his teeth, "We're gonna try a little test."

The jock ran his hand down the front of my chest until he stopped right over my crotch.

"No" I mouthed, but no words would come. "No, no, no" I repeated over and over, but not a single sound passed though my lips. Why were these jeans so damn tight? I could feel every callus from where his hockey stick rested. I could feel the hair on his knuckles; I could feel each and every finger as he traced the lines of the denim. And it scared me. Unable to move, speak, or even breathe, I just closed my eyes and waited for it to be over.

"I knew it," he said when my body refused to respond to him, "you just wanted the attention. You're a fake." He punched my gut, "You're" **punch**, "a" **punch**, "fucking" **punch**, "FAKE!" he screamed before finally letting is arm go, causing me to drop to the floor. He put his foot on my chest and just stared down at me. It seemed to last forever, until the sound of moonboot footsteps filled the hall.

"Damn boy, what is takin' so long? My dad'll kill me if I'm..." Mercedes took in the sight and her eyes widened with horror.

"Beat it bitch. This ain't your business," Karofsky's foot pressed down on my chest.

"Like hell it ain't!" she yelled, "get the hell off my man Kurt!" She strutted right up to the jock and did the unthinkable; she slapped him.

Karofsky was so taken aback by this the he stumbled backwards. I gulped in the air as the pressure was relieved from my chest. I watched as the jock's face turned red and felt a sickening fear as he stood back up.

"You're not gonna hit a girl, are you Karofsky?" Finn had stepped in front of Mercedes, and his face was colder than I'd ever seen it.

"You guys are so ignorant," Karofsky said, backing off, "I was doin' y'all a favour." With that, he turned and left.

"Oh, Kurt. What did he do?" Mercedes scooped me up in her arms and I cried. I cried and cried, all the tears I hadn't been able to shed were now cascading down my cheeks in a never ending waterfall.

"Shh, shh, it's okay," she murmured, smoothing my hair. "Finn, can you carry him to the car?"

He ran his fingers through his hair nervously, "I think so, I mean he's what, a hundred pounds?"

"Okay, good. Now Kurt, Finn's going to pick you up and-"

"No!" I screamed, "Don't-don't leave me!" I panicked, grasping the damn zebra sweater as if it was the only thing left in the world.

How they got me to the car and, eventually, home and in bed, I don't know. I just remember lying there, collapsed in Mercedes arms, taking in her scent, and crying like the baby I was. Mercedes reminds me of my mom. I needed her now more than ever, but Mercedes would have to do.

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** This is officially the longest thing I have ever written. I'm sorry of I made anyone uncomfortable with that last part, but it was crucial to the story line. Thank you so much for your amazing reviews; they're what keep me going!**


	3. Like Poison, Baby

**Hey everyone! I'm so sorry I've taken over two months to update, but I have had the legit busiest two months of my life. Summatives, exams, Ski Club, two plays (in Shakespearean), and a coffeehouse (that my class hosted) on top of regular homework and a nasty cold that even led to me losing my voice on coffeehouse night (a voiceless Cinderella :'( ). Add that to the fact that I never get home before 5 (later on extra curric nights), and I have very little free time.**

**Anyway, enough excuses. It's now officially March Break, so I finally have some down time! I'm going to try to update at least once more before next Monday, when school resumes.**

**Before I end this incessantly long author's note (sorry guys), there are just a few things I need to say about the chapter. I might get a bit OOC in this chapter, but I tried to keep as true to the characters as possible! You'll see why that got, well, difficult, later on. Also, _when I write in italics_, it's either a text message or the little voice in the back of Kurt's head. It should be easy to tell the difference.**

**Lastly, I would like to dedicate this chapter to aikadeer, as I know it will make her happy.**

**Enjoy!**

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Like Poison, Baby

"Kurt, that's like the fourth time you've tried that one on," Mercedes said, sounding rather exasperated, "just pick it already!"

"It's not that simple, Mercedes," I say, doing a spin in front of the mirror, "every moment is an opportunity for fashion, especially a party. I'm not going to waste a chance to look my best."

"Boy, It took me to long to damn convince you to go to this thing, there is no way in hell I'm letting you make us late," her phone vibrated and she looked at the screen for a second before writing her reply, "and now Tina's getting mad at me because we're takin' so long."

"We're driving Tina?" I asked.

"Yeah, her parents took her license away again," her phone vibrated again, "oh, and Wheels too."

"Cool" I say before turning to face her, "well? How do I look?"

"Like I told you the last three times, you look great," she stood up and grabbed my hand, dragging me out of the room, "now let's go!"

My phone vibrated, "hold on a sec."

Mercedes rolled her eyes as I checked my screen.

_Cn u drive me 2 prty? No gas $_

"It's Finn. He needs a ride."

"Whatever, it's your car." She rolls her eyes again.

_Sure, on my way with M. Picking up Tina and Artie too. Be there in 10._

A few minutes later, he responded with a smiley face, and I told Mercedes we could go.

"Finally," she said, heaving an over dramatic sigh, "let's go before it's over."

* * *

"Thanks for the ride Kurt," Finn said, climbing out of the back seat first. Mercedes had informed me that there was 'no way in hell white boy is takin' shotgun,' so he was stuck in the back.

"Yeah, I'm pretty much trapped every time my mom takes my license," Tina said, coming from behind the truck after retrieving Artie's wheelchair. After he lowered himself into it, Tina proceeded to push him and, with some home help from Finn, lift the chair up Puck's front steps. Artie looked up at Tina and muttered a small thanks.

"Oh please," Mercedes said, "y'all are too cute for words." Artie and Tina turned a uniform shade of red, and Finn, Mercedes and I all laughed until Artie pounded the doorbell.

" 'ey! You made it! What took ya so long?" Puck said, slurring his words a little bit, "I've had to listen to Rachel rant about my irrespons'bleness for the past half hour." Styrofoam cup in hand, Puck gave each of us a hug, an ever kissed Tina awkwardly on the cheek, earning an angry arm-cross from Artie.

"How much have you had to drink?" I asked tentatively before stepping in.

"Oh, not too much. I think this is my third...umm... I think it's a rum and coke. I also had two of the beers that Matt brought," he stooped down to Artie's level and looked him directly in the eye "dude, it's Canadian. It's, like, 6%!" Puck then stood up, took a wobbly bow, and walked away.

"Well," Finn said, breaking our stunned silence, "tonight's going to be interesting..."

* * *

Despite Puck's frightening greeting, the party was actually kind of fun. Everyone was there except for Quinn, because Brittany said she was sick and had to stay at home. Sarah's karaoke machine was well stocked, with over 200 songs ranging from show tunes for Rachel to rock classics for Finn, and even some Lady Gaga for me. There we're a few songs we'd done in glee, and whenever somebody picked one of them, we all joined in. Puck, Matt, and Santana, all being rather drunk, danced rather obnoxiously, unplugging the machine more than once.

I suppose that I should have expected there to be drinking when Puck seemed so happy about his mom being out of town. I lost track of Puck after his second gin and tonic, and Santana was already completely intoxicated. Mike and Matt mainly stuck to the strong Canadian beer, and even Finn had a couple. Brittany was an oddity all in her own, for no matter how many coolers she had, she never seemed affected in the slightest. At one point, Santana made Sangria and gave some to Rachel, who had no idea what it was. The look on her face when she tasted the wine was priceless. She ranted at us about poor choices before storming out. Artie rolled his eyes and we all laughed. Mercedes took a glass and offered me some. I took a sip, and told her that I didn't really care for the taste. Two minutes later, Rachel came back.

"Someone needs to drive you all home tonight," she said, "I mean, how can we win Regionals if you all die in some tragic car accident?"

Rachel dampened the mood momentarily, but then Artie discovered that Puck had Dance Dance Revolution and insisted that we play. Artie schooled all of us, playing with his hands, and Puck's drunken attempts to try Artie's method did not turn out well. Santana went around refilling everyone's glasses, and Mercedes eagerly sipped it back.

"What?" she said at my disapproving look, "I like it. It tastes like strawrawberries!" she giggled at her mistake. "Are you sure you don't wants some?" she asked.

"No, no, I'm perfectly okay, thanks."

"What's this?" Puck asked, seemingly coming from nowhere, "Hummel hasn't had anything to drink?" I shook my head. "Aw, that's no fun. You's missing all the fun."

"Really I'm fine," I said, backing away from him. The smell of alcohol was extremely evident on his breath.

"No, you're not." Puck, said.

"Kurt's missing all the fun," Santana managed through her giggle fit.

"If I'm drinking, you sure don't have an excuse to be sober," Tina shouted from across the room.

"That goes double for me!" Artie shouted from beside her.

"Even Rachel's had more 'n you," Finn reasoned, much to the diva's noticeable disapproval.

"Come on Kurt," Mercedes said, looking at me with her warm eyes, "what's the worst that could happen?"

"Okay, fine!" I said, exasperated, "Throw me something, will you Puckerman?"

* * *

"'Cedes, I think you should s-stop. That's you ninth glasssss" I said, watching her make a new pitcher of the red drink.

"Yeah?" she slurred out, "who're you ta talk? You's nearly polished off all that mouthwash." She started giggling softly.

"Is not mouth wash. Is peppermint schnapps." I said matter-of-factly.

"Okay, schnapps. Why're you drinking it? It smells horribible"

"I like peppermint, and is fun to say schnapps. Schnapps. Say it!" I started to laugh as well.

"Schnapps!" she said, and we both started to laugh uncontrollably.

I took a quick look around the room. Rachel was watching some black-and-white musical on TV, occasionally looking at her watch and then giving very angry looks at the rest of us. Tina had fallen asleep with her head on Artie's lap. Artie was absently running a hand through her hair and playing with her new pink streaks while watching Rachel's movie. Puck and Santana had disappeared, though we all knew where they were. Mike and Matt were passed out on the kitchen table. Brittany had somehow convinced Finn to dance with her, and she was faintly humming a sweet tune. Mercedes and I sat at the dining room table, giggling like drunken idiots.

"You know Kurt," Mercedes said once she had calmed down, "you have really pretty eyes. They's like the ocean, but made of glass. So pretty..." she trailed off, closing her eyes and leaning back.

_Her eyes are pretty too_. "You've real nice eyes too 'Cedes. They're all warm and sparkly, and they go on forever." She opened her eyes and moved towards me.

"You really think so?" she asked, still slurring slightly, but all the gigglieness had left her voice.

"Yeah," I said, "Your hair's nice too. Smells like vanilla and mangoes. I like it."

"Oh, Kurty," she said. Then she leaned in and kissed me.

My first response was to pull away and set things straight. But, like yesterday, I found I couldn't move.

"You're a fake Hummel. You're a fucking fake. Always with that fat black chick. Just wanted the attention. Fucking fake."

All I could hear was Karofsky's voice, over and over, and it made me think. _What if he's right? How would you know? This IS your first kiss._ Under normal circumstances, I would have disregarded that little voice in the back of my head. But these were not normal circumstances. With Karofsky's voice in my head and peppermint schnapps rushing through my veins, I found my self believing it. That's why, when Mercedes pulled away, an apologetic look on her sweet face, I pulled her back. She tasted of alcohol and strawberries, and all I could think was that it felt so wrong. _But it's so right._

I gave into that little voice, a decision I'll always regret. _Though there's nothing to regret. You're a fake, remember?_ I'll always regret it, because it was that little voice, nothing more than a bit of insecurity and schnapps, that led to me following Mercedes, past Rachel's black-and-white musical, past Puck and Santana, past the bathroom, and into what I assumed was Mrs. Puckerman's bedroom. And despite the voice at the back of my head, I still knew it was wrong. _But it's what's right. Get over Finn. You're a fake, remember?_

* * *

**Well, do you hate me? I'm sorry guys, but I had to do it! Blame the alcohol. Sorry if I made anyone angry. Have a happy Sunday, and please, if you're going to flame, be civil. But please, please, pretty please review, even if it is negative. Reviews are like crack to me, and I really can't write without them. **


	4. Today, I Woke Up, Thinkin' 'bout

** Hey all!!! I know this update took absolutely forever, but I only got three reviews :'(. And, without reviews, I find it extremely hard to write. So, anyway, I finally got around to writing this, and, even though it's nearly 5 in the morning here (I won't publish it until around noonish though), I'm rather pleased with the results. This is a bit of a filler chapter, for which I apologize, but, like I said, it's really hard to write without inspiration.**

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Today, I Woke Up, Thinkin' 'bout...

"And furthermore, I would just like to reiterate the fact that I told you this would happen, and if you hadn't been so careless, nothing would have happened. But, of course, you ignored my obvious wisdom and encouraged this...this-"

Damn it Rachel. Even when I'm sleeping, I can't escape her nagging voice. Either I'm dreaming, or, rather, having a nightmare, or she has somehow found her way into my home. I really do have to talk to Dad about fixing that back window.

I snapped my eyes open and realized that I was neither dreaming nor in my own bed. In fact, this isn't even my house. The first thing I noticed was that I had a throbbing headache, followed by "where am I?", however, these thoughts were quickly overshadowed by the fact that, although I was still wearing my Ralph Lauren navy jacket, my lower half was unusually bare. And, much to my dismay, my lovely black Gucci jeans were lying in a heap on the floor. I was just beginning to worry about how I would get those creases out when a small yawn from my left caused me to remember the evening. I turned to face her.

"Mmmmm... Kurt? What are you doing here?" she stretched, "and where is my..." he eyes widened, and I knew she realized what we must have done.

"Oh my-"

"God." I finished for her. We both just laid there, in stunned silence, unable to accept what had happened. It just couldn't have happened, could it? I mean, we didn't have that much to drink. I just had one bottle. I mean, sure, it was hard liquor, but it couldn't be that strong, right? But, by the look on her face, it was true. Very true. I just didn't want to believe it. I couldn't.

"I mean, honestly, Noah, what kind of host just up and disappears in the middle of his own party? This just proves that I am obviously the better hostess. And we can't even find everyone. Damn it Noah, why can't you grow up?"

Rachel interrupted our stunned thoughts, and, quicker than lightening, Mercedes was out of Mrs. Puckerman's bed, scrambling to find her skirt.

"What are you doing?" I asked, still too shocked to make sense of anything.

"There is no way in hell I am letting them find us like this. Now, turn around boy, get your pants on, and fix that hair!"

I numbly followed her instructions, and, as soon as she deemed me presentable, she led me out of the room.

"Hey guys," Mercedes said, slightly out of breath, "what happened? I could hear Rachel tearin' Puck apart all the way from the other side of the house!"

"Somehow, in the midst of all of your drunken frolicking, somebody managed to smash Sarah's karaoke machine. Now, Noah's frightened because he has to face the consequences, even though none of this would have happened if all of you had just listened to me!" Rachel said, bordering on a rant, "and besides, where were you two? It's three in the morning, and I would really like to get home before my Dad's ground me for life

I didn't know what to say, but luckily, Mercedes is quick on her feet.

"I wasn't feelin' so hot. Too much Sangria," she looked at Santana, who nodded in understanding, "so, Kurt took me to the bathroom and held my hair back, if you get my drift."

"You threw up for four hours?" Brittany asked.

"No," Mercedes said, rolling her eyes, "after I was done, my head was pounding. So, we tried to find a quiet place, and the only place where we couldn't hear Rachel's stupid movie was in Puck's Ma's bedroom. We were both tired, so I took the bed and Kurt was a gentleman and slept on the floor. Any more questions?"

"No, no more questions. No time," said Rachel, "we really have to get home. Noah, I'm taking your SUV-"

"Hey, you can't do that-" Puck protested.

"Look here, Noah, I have eight intoxicated teenagers to drive home here, nine including myself, and, even though there are only seven seats in your stupid truck, it's safer than my five. Santana, you'll have to stay here-"

"No problem," the cheerleader said, licking her lips.

Rachel continued as if she hadn't been interrupted, "and we'll just have to find away to utilize a seat belt with Artie's wheelchair-"

"Hey," the boy said from across the room, a still drowsy Tina sitting on his lap, "respect the chair."

"Yes, yes, whatever!" Rachel yelled, "just give me the damn keys Noah!"

"Okay, okay, whatever, take 'em. Just stop shouting, will ya? My head is pounding." Puck said, and the room nodded in agreement.

"Just, just...ugh! Five minutes!" Rachel said, snatching Puck's keys from his hand and storming into the driveway.

"What's her problem?" Finn asked, bewildered.

"She's got a liquor bottle shoved up her ass rather than down her throat." Puck replied.

"Puck," I said, finally able to speak with confidence again, "that was extremely vulgar. Unnecessarily so. Anyway, we should really get out to the car, if only to avoid another Rachel rant."

Everybody said goodbye to Puck and Santana before making their way outside. Artie was in no condition to push himself, and Tina was already collapsed in Mercedes' arms, so I pushed him out and somehow managed to heave his chair down the steps without throwing him out of it. Mercedes and I had sobered up by our realization of the night, so we ended up helping most of the inebriated glee club to the car.

"Alright, there's some steel cable in the trunk, don't ask me why Noah has it, or how I know about it," Rachel said without taking her eyes off the road, "Kurt? Can you secure the wheel chair with it?"

"What? That can't possibly be safe, Rachel," I said.

"Its fine," Tina said drowsily, "we've done it before with just plain twine. Just run it through the wheels and then over and under the arm rests. Then, connect it in between the two seats." Artie nodded, as if to assure me that this logic was sound.

"Okay," I said, still unsure, but following Tina's instructions regardless. "But Rachel, I want you to stay under 40, 'kay? I don't wanna take any chances."

"Fine, I wasn't going to go above 35 any way. Now, this is how this is going to work. Mercedes, you have shotgun. You're rather sober, and, no offence or anything, but they need the room back there."

"Ah, hell-" Mercedes started, but I grabbed her arm, and she let out a very unimpressed huff before taking her assigned seat.

"Okay, good, I'm going make this work. Artie, you'll obviously be riding in the wheelchair-"

"Really? I never would have guessed," Artie muttered under his breath, tugging at the cable restraining him in place.

"Finn and Matt, you sit on either side of Artie, as you two need to most leg room," Rachel said, and the two boys moved into position, " and Kurt, Mike, Tina, and Brittany, you'll have to squish in the back. Now, before you complain about poor planning, I assure you that I, of course, have this all thought out. You need to climb in through the hatchback, which I will then close behind you. It's already open," Rachel stopped to breathe, which she apparently hadn't done since she had started giving instructions..

We executed her complicated routine, although rather clumsily, and everyone somehow managed to get in place. Rachel insisted that Tina and I sit together because we were the smallest and could share a seat belt.

"Seat belts everyone," Rachel said for the ninth time, and then she finally started the engine. We drove in close quartered silence, everyone either asleep, deep in thought, or, in Rachel's case, too pissed off to speak.

It stayed that way for a god five minutes until my phone vibrated. I lifted it to look at the screen, first noticing that I had missed three calls from my dad. Then I saw the bright red circle that let me know I had a new text message.

_Mercedes Jones_:_ Text Message_

I touched the icon, only to find two words on the screen.

_What now?_

I thought for a while, unsure of what to say. At a loss for an answer, I decided to pretend I hadn't received the text, and talk to her tomorrow, Monday the latest. I went to close the message screen, but accidentally sent a blank text instead. I was just in the process of typing an explanation message when the phone vibrated again.

_Good plan._

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** Okay, firstly I would like to say that creating a new seat by lashing a wheelchair to existing seating with cable of any kind is extremely dangerous and is not a viable method of fitting everyone in a car, and should therefore never be tried be anybody, anywhere. EVER. However, I needed to find a way to make them all fit, and, although not realistic, it worked for my purposes. Please don't hate me. Hopefully you all understood what I meant by the last part, but feel free to ask if you don't. And, lastly, please, please, pretty pretty please review! The story can't progress without them, so whether they be positive or negative, lengthy or just a few words, please just take the time and write one. It means the world to me.**


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